Christine's Madness
by Cookie LaRue
Summary: Set several years after POTO. Tragedy and loneliness cause Christine’s mind to slowly descend into madness. Will a ghost from her past help her or destroy her? A cross between Leroux and ALW.
1. Society, Marriage and Motherhood

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 1: Society, Marriage and Motherhood**

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Christine, the Vicomtesse de Chagny, had not been seen in Paris for several weeks. Her absence from the fashionable salons was of course noticed, but hardly mourned. Christine was widely considered a dull, sullen and unwanted addition to upper class society. Invitations were bestowed upon her only as a courtesy to her husband the Vicomte. Raoul de Chagny was a man of great wealth and importance. It was considered a tremendous honor to count the Vicomte amongst one's party guests. A hostess would tolerate his wife, but only if Christine was imposed upon them.

To the women of the Parisian upper class Christine was seen nothing more as a vulgar opera girl. Her musical upbringing had left her poorly educated in the ways of fashion and society and was about as useful to a party as a deaf mute. She had clearly used what very little beauty she possessed in her youth to ensnare the Vicomte into an unwise and imbalanced marriage. How the noblewomen mourned the Vicomte's lot in life to be saddled with such a dull wife. It had become a rather popular party game amongst the Parisian hostesses to try to lure Raoul de Chagny into a pleasant indiscretion. While proper ladies do not openly discuss such activities, recent gossip pointed towards a Russian ballerina coming very close to seducing the prize, though no one had openly claimed victory as of yet.

The men of the Parisian upper class had a much more favorable view of Christine, at least initially. She was a pretty little thing and they could hardly fault Raoul for wanting her in his bed every night. The men showered Christine with compliments and congratulated the Vicomte on his choice bride. Boredom quickly took hold amongst the leisurely society however and it was not long before a rather bawdy rumor about Christine began to spread. It was widely whispered that Christine had taken on a lover. More intriguing than that was that she had chosen a very dangerous man--- a madman and a murder they said.

The idea of innocent little Christine being seduced by a murder thrilled and aroused the gentleman. What terribly delicious things such a man such as that must do to her behind closed doors. It was such an irresistible prospect that each man, in his turn, made his own move to become Christine's next lover. The double entandres and propositions were lost on the Christine however. She did not understand their meaning and it appeared that she was nearly as much of a maiden as she was before her marriage. The rejected gentlemen quickly concluded the rumor was a false one, no doubt planted by one of their shrewish wives meant to make them all look fools. The innocence they once found so sweat and endearing in Christine became repulsive to them. Why on earth should they waste their time trying seducing her when there were plenty of much more experience women to be found, for the right price.

So it was that the Parisian upper class came to greatly dislike Christine de Chagny. Their love and admiration for her husband Raoul intensified every day, but for Christine their would be nothing.

At any given party that Raoul attended with his wife, Christine could always be found sitting alone in a corner while Raoul laughed and played. Raoul was quite a master of both cards and billiards and loved to dazzle the other guests with his skills. Christine would sit patiently in her chair dressed as pretty as a doll with blank hollow eyes to match. It was not that Christine was unhappy. On the contrary, she loved her husband and it pleased her to see him so well liked by these people. The emptiness in her eyes was simply the byproduct lacking the kills necessary to endear herself to this society.

Christine's life had been entirely dedicated to music and nothing else. That one great skill that she did possess, the gift of music, was a skill that her husband had forbidden her to use. Without music there was very little left to Christine. She did not blame Raoul's friends for disliking her. She would dislike herself as well.

Raoul's intentions had been noble. His wife had an unhealthy obsession with music. Christine prayed to a dead father who she believed serenaded her in her sleep. Her obsession with the violinist Daae had long ago taken a dangerous turn when another man used it to manipulate her. This was a man that they never spoke of--- a dark musician known as the Phantom of the Opera. A disfigured shell of a man who nurtured and taught Christine to sing from behind the opera house walls. Christine became lost in a fog with this creature the Phantom. She thought him to be her father, her angel, her protector and savior, but Raoul knew him only as a monster and a murderer.

The Phantom was nothing more than a plague on this earth and he was a disease that Christine must be protected from. Raoul had saved Christine from the grips of that monster long ago beneath the opera house and the police said the creature was dead. Yet in the pit of his stomach Raoul feared the creature was still lurking in the shadows, watching his Christine. Both knew her weakness---music. Raoul resolved on their wedding day that the only way to keep Christine safe was to deny her music. So he did.

At the beginning of the marriage Raoul and Christine fled from the streets and music of Paris altogether. The couple traveled the continent and lived in small yet fashionable villages. Raoul still had appearances to keep and was watchful of where his letters were postmarked. At first Christine seemed truly relieved to be rid of Paris and of music. She seemed content to have only Raoul. Not long after their first anniversary, Christine gave birth to the couple's son Philippe. Christine doted upon Philippe and poured herself into motherhood. She loved the idea of raising her son while traveling from town to town. It was, after all, how her father had raised her. Raoul, on the other hand, did not like the idea of his son living a gypsy's life. Why should the boy suffer for his mother's mistakes? So Raoul moved his wife and sin permanently to the de Chagny home in the heart of Paris.

With the return to Paris came the return of social expectations for the Vicomte de Chagny. Running around Europe with his young bride was all well and romantic, but he had a son to think of now. The life of an upper class gentleman required him to stay in the favor of prominent businessmen as well and those with inherited wealth. To do that one had to attend the best parities and be admitted to the best salons of the city. It was a task Raoul was well equipped to handle. Unfortunately for him, his bride was not. He knew that Christine could win their favor by singing for them, but he did want to send out such an open invitation to the creature that lurked in the shadows. Whether the Phantom was alive or truly dead, it did not matter. Even his ghost could tear Christine away from him and he would not have it. So as much as it pained him to see his wife alone and unwelcome at parties, he forbade her to use her musical talent to win friends.

But the return to Paris did make Christine long to find her voice again. While She was dutiful and adhered to her husband's edict, every time she heard her son's crying in this strange new house she desperately wanted to quiet his tears with a lullaby. She kept quiet for as long as she could stand it, but one night Christine snuck into her son's nursery and sang him the first of many forbidden songs. Whether her husband knew of her defiance she did not know, but it pleased her to have this secret musical time with her son. On warm nights she opened the windows and thought the wind itself was serenading her child. It was a quiet whispered duet. Christine began to come alive at night, when music once again filled her life.

It would not be for several more years before Christine de Chagny was able to become pregnant again. By them her son Philippe was already quite grown and did not care for her forbidden lullabies. Philippe only had time for the wonderful toys his father bought for him in the city. Philippe was his father's son and already keen to learn the delicate dance of upper class society. He ignored his mother and Christine desperately longed for another child---one she could call her own.

The pregnancy was difficult one and the birth nearly killed her. The doctor said her body would never fully recover form the ordeal. He said her womb was a twisted and barren now. This baby would be her last child. The little girl she named Margarete, or little Meg as she often called her. The baby was born so weak and sickly that the doctor said it would be a miracle if she lived more than a day. Christine, exhausted from the delivery, looked down at her child and thought her a perfect little miracle.

The room had emptied to discuss the graveness of the situation away from Christine's delicate ears and she took the private opportunity to pray. She prayed to the only angel she had ever known to actually come down from heaven and help her. She prayed to the Angel of Music. Christine asked him to grant her one-year with her child. She did not think herself worthy of a lifetime with her little Meg, though she would have gladly taken it. She felt a year was all she could ask for before heaven took her sweet girl back.

One day passed. Then two. A week passed and the baby still lived. The doctor and Raoul stood watchful bracing for the day the babe would die, but Christine stood knowingly that her prayer had been answered. The Angel of Music had helped her once again. Defiant, Christine openly sang to her daughter day and night. Raoul railed against her saying music would only curse their daughter. Christine paid him little attention saying he had his son and now she had her daughter. Margarete would know a life filled with nothing but song.

On the night the baby died, Christine held her daughter fast in her arms with the nursery windows wide open. She sang out into the night air and swore that the wind replied in a mournful duet. Margarete died one year and one day to the day of her birth.

The baby was buried in a tiny grave with a small marker. Christine wanted an angel statute for the grave but Raoul scolded her saying it would be in bad taste to show such extravagance. Christine begged her husband to reconsider. When he would not bend she related the story of her prayer to the Angel of Music. When she finished she thought surely he would understand it had to be an angel on Margarete's tomb. The Angel of Music was her reason for living. Raoul listened with calmness and civility. He paced trying to find the right words but found he could not break the news to her delicately.

Raoul explained to Christine that the baby died of exposure. The child had taken a chill due to Christine leaving the window open all night to sing to the wind. It was Christine's obsession with the Angel of Music that caused the baby's death. The child would not have died that night had it not been for Christine's negligence. Raoul had forbidden Christine to sing. This is what happens because of her foolish disobedience. Christine screamed that he was a liar. It was not true. Margarete was meant to die one year and a day after her birth.

Raoul and Christine were quiet and cold towards each other during the mourning period. Each thought the other at fault in the death of their child---he blamed Christine's naiveté and she blamed his atheistic disregard of her pact with the Angel of Music.

In time however, Christine began to see the truth in Raoul's version of events. She had never actually heard the Angel of Music answer her prayer. Her songs to the wind were just that. The wind never replied. The Angel of Music was not real. All of it was in her mind. She wanted so badly to believe in a fairy tale her father had made up for her, that she risked her marriage and killed her own child to do it. Raoul had been right all along. Music was a curse. It had robbed her of her daughter.

Raoul de Chagny was obligated to return to society after a proper mourning period, but his wife was not. Society did not want her, and yet in time Christine did want them. She thought that a normal life with a normal routine might help her forget Margarete. Christine began to attend the parities once again still sitting quietly in a corner ignored by the other guests. Raoul fell into his old jovial routine easily enough, but the callousness of society was often more than Christine's already fragile disposition could handle. Her attendance at parties became erratic though she did try to attend. Christine opted more and more to stay in seclusion in her own home. Her current absence from the parties and salons, having already stretched over several weeks, was one that every hostess Paris was secretly hoping would last forever. No one who was anyone in Paris cared a fig what happened to Christine de Chagny.


	2. A Fragile Mind

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 2: A Fragile Mind**

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Raoul should have seen the signs of Christine's impending madness earlier than he did. Christine showed signs of it as early as their honeymoon. She would often wake up in the middle of the night whispering to her friend Meg to stop gossiping with the other girls and go to sleep. He thought it endearing and teased his bride she was no longer in the opera dormitories.

The slips of her mind continued well past their honeymoon however. Christine could often be found frantically searching for her ballet slippers or rushing to a lesson with Madame Giry that no longer existed. Raoul would patiently remind her where and when she was and Christine would blush with embarrassment.

"How silly you must think I am." Christine would shyly reply to him.

Raoul would simply smile in return and kiss her on the brow a quick swat of her rump and he would send her back to her closet to dress properly for dinner. As much as he knew the gentlemen of Paris would enjoy seeing his wife in a tutu, he preferred to keep her absent mind to himself. How innocent it all seemed then.

It was a night like any other when Raoul first realized how far gone his wife was. He was dressing himself in a tuxedo for an elegant dinner out on the town when he heard Christine shuffling down the hall.

"Christine? Are you dressed yet?" he called out.

In the hallway doors could be heard opening and closing and Christine stumbled her way down the length.

"Christine?" Raoul called out. He entered the hallway half disinterested, busily buttoning the front of his shirt. He looked down the hall expecting to see his wife in her dressing gown opening doors in search of a maid to help dress her. Instead he saw what looked like a madwoman.

Christine moved through the hallways opening and slamming doors with a mad look in her eye. Her hair was a wilds birds nest of curls and tangles. She was dressed, if one could call it that, in a bed sheet haphazardly draped around her body. She heard Raoul behind her and turned her head towards him like an animal in the woods first hearing the sound of a predator. He saw her eyes and gasped. They looked as if the whites had been blotted out with blood. Christine glared at him and seethed,

"Where have you hid it?"

Raoul moved towards her hands outstretched as one greeting an unfriendly dog.

"Hidden what my love?"

"The chapel. Where is it? What have you done with it?"

He moved closer and she violently turned her head forward again and shuffled down the hall again.

"We do not have a chapel Christine. You know this."

Christine's head jerked left and right scanning the hallway.

"Liar! I pray there every day and every night. You have hidden it from me. You are a devil!"

Raoul stared at the back of his agitated wife with the realization that she once again thought she was back at the Opera house. Why could her mind not leave that cursed place? He calmly reminded her when and where she was.

"Christine you are not at the Opera Populaire anymore. You are in your home. You are a wife and mother now. You must forget the opera."

"Where is the chapel?" she screamed to the wall despondent.

"I will take you to church Christine. We will pray together there. Would you like that? First me must get you dressed. Come here Christine." Raoul was often at a loss what to say to his wife during these slips of her mind, but he usually tried to cater to her whims as safely as he could.

"Take me to the chapel" she growled.

"Yes Christine, but first you must dress."

Christine turned her whole body towards her husband and faced him. Raoul nearly fainted when he saw the sheet was covered in blood. Christine clutched the lower part of her abdomen with her right hand. She stared at Raoul with calmness now as if what she had done was the most natural thing in the world.

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Dr. Cronan closed the bedroom door and followed the Vicomte de Chagny downstairs to the front drawing room. He stitched the cut the Vicomtesse had given herself across her abdomen and sedated her heavily with morphine. Dr. Cronan placed his assistant at the women's bedside to keep watch, but felt the woman would not wake for sometime. The doctor helped himself to a sifter of brandy and sat comfortably in a large leather chair.

"Will she live?" Raoul asked pacing the floor.

"Oh no doubt monsieur. The cut was not very deep. She may have a scar, but as you and I are the only ones who shall ever see it, it is little cause for concern."

"Little cause for concern? My wife took a knife to her womb. She could have killed herself. You say there is little cause for concern? There is great cause for concern doctor and I take great offense you are treating the matter so lightly."

Raoul grabbed the sifter from the doctor's hand and threw it at the fireplace. The doctor sat upright uneasily.

"Apologies monsieur. I did not mean to give offense. I only meant that her physical health is not at risk. Her mind is in terrible distress yes."

"How do I help her?"

"Well monsieur le Vicomte this is not my area of expertise. It is obvious she carries great guilt for the death of your daughter. Perhaps she has finally come to realize the child died at her hands."

"You forget yourself sir. Choose you words carefully." Raoul stared down at him in defiant anger. The doctor retreated into his chair.

"Poorly chosen words Vicomte, I apologize. I only meant that the baby's death is what weight on her mind, I feel that there is little you or I can do for her. She clearly needs to be put in an asylum."

"NO! My wife is not mad! She is sorrowful yes, mournful perhaps, but not mad. I will not just toss her off like some cheap mistress. She is my wife damn you."

"Apologizes for my presumptuousness monsieur. I will prescribe medicines to calm her as you try to heal her, but there is nothing I can do for her mind."

Raoul continued to pace but nodded in agreement to the medicine.

"Sir if you do change your mind there is a place just outside the city where many a gentlewoman has gone to regain her senses. It is a very good and safe place for her. I feel you will come to this decision sooner rather than later. But at your discretion of course Vicomte. Simply know that I will help make the arrangements."

Raoul looked at the doctor's beady little eyes with disgust. How could this man treat his wife's mental anguish with such a clinical indifference? This was his wife. He could not simply turn his back on her because she was inconvenient.

"I trust I can continue to count on you and your assistant's discretion in this matter?" Raoul looked down handing the doctor several large bank notes. The doctor's eyes lit up with greed.

"Of course Vicomte. We shall take this night's events to our graves. I will retrieve my assistant and we shall be on our way. I will leave a bottle of morphine in you care."

The doctor and his assistant slithered out into the night. Raoul fell exhausted into a chair but got no sleep that night.

Christine was still not herself in the morning. The drugs seemed to only focus her madness. Raoul looked at his wife with such pity and such fear. Philippe would have to be kept from the house so not to see his mother in such a sorrowful state. Only the most trust worthy servants would be allowed in the house. No matter how much they tried to contain her, Christine's voice could be heard echoing throughout the house. At times she kept on full conversations with herself. At others she would just utter nonsense--- counting numbers, spelling out words that didn't exist, or sometimes just moaning and banging her fists against the walls.

Raoul did his best to make excuses why he did not venture out into society. The upper class gave him leave, but openly mocked his wife. Christine had removed herself from society to mourn her daughter yet again. It was her favorite past time after all, mourning Margarete. Mocking Christine's misery was one of the most popular party games in Paris. There was an on going bet how many days it would be before Christine would bother to show herself in society again. The gentry did their best to make sure the Vicomte never knew of this wicked bet, for he loved his little daughter too, but always made it a topic of conversation amongst themselves.

"How selfish that women is! It is bad enough she burden's her servants with her fits of sorrow, but to carry on so badly that she denies the Vicomte the pleasure of our company? Scandalous!"

By week's end the stress of handling Christine's madness was more than Raoul could bear. He had not so much as an hour's sleep in as many days, nor had his servants. Philippe began to constantly cry to his tutors about not being allowed to go home. Raoul began to fell Christine's madness was contagious was would soon envelope him completely. For everyone's benefit something drastic must be done.

Raoul put on his wool coat upturning the collar to hide his face and walked the streets of Paris in search of Dr. Cronan's office. Today he would arrange for Christine to be committed. Raoul was now convinced it was the only thing that would heal Christine's fragile mind.


	3. Commitment

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 3: Commitment**

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It was early in the morning, well before fashionable people would be awake and a cold damp fog surrounded the estate. The laudanum the maid had slipped into Christine's breakfast calmed her enough so she could be properly dressed. Raoul and Dr. Cronan quietly assisted Christine into the carriage and stole away into the fog. There was a great sigh of relief from the servants to see the carriage disappear and to finally be rid of the mistress.

Christine stared blankly into the fog. Raoul looked at her with pain. Her eyes looked about and suddenly her head cocked to one side as if an idea had taken hold of her. She pressed her hand against the window.

"Are we going to the sea?" she asked excited and joyful.

"No Christine" Raoul replied defeated.

"Oh" she replied, turning her gaze back towards the fog.

"I long for the sea."

Raoul choked back tears. He had heard so many requests such as this from his wife over the last few days that it pained him to hear another. Her mind changed its focus so rapidly that no amount of concession to her requests would please her. This was just another he would have to ignore.

It seems an eternity to reach the sanitarium. It was nicer than Raoul had imagined it would be and complimented the head doctor, Dr. LeCroix, on the upkeep. There were no madwomen in straight jackets screaming across the lawn. It looked more like a holiday retreat, with gardens and walkways.

The nurses and Dr. LeCroix escorted the Vicomte and his mad wife on a small tour of the facility. Christine held her husband's arm and walked as if they were in a museum. She looked at all the points of interest with the same confusion as she did on their honeymoon when they toured historical landmarks.

The final stop on the tour was Christine's room. It was a small plain room with a small plain bed. Christine's things had already been unpacked. The picture of her father on the dresser caught her eye and she moved to touch it. Meanwhile, the nurses and doctor assured the Vicomte his wife would be safe here and they escorted him out the door.

"Raoul?" Christine called after him. He looked back at her but the doctor urged him on. Christine dropped the picture and moved to try and rejoin her husband.

"Raoul?" she moved towards the door but the nurses and doctor cut her off and tried to herd her back into her room. The Vicomte kept walking further and further away, his footsteps becoming softer and softer. Panicking, Christine screamed.

"RAOUL?"

The nurses screamed for some orderlies and they grabbed the panicking Christine tossing her on the bed and locking her in her room. Outside, the Vicomte de Chagny climbed into the awaiting carriage and drove away.


	4. An Encounter

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 4: An Encounter**

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Christine's stay in the sanitarium was a blur of drugs and conversations. Everyone did his or her best to help Christine, but had little success. They updated the Vicomte daily with news of her progress, which sadly was no change at all. This angered the husband profusely. Raoul sent more money to Dr. LeCroix to give him results. The doctor and his staff tried, but could not help Christine. The only constant they could report back to Raoul was Christine's daily request to go to the sea.

Raoul and Christine had met at the sea so very long ago. Part of him thought this must be the time she longed for. The time when her father played the violin and a boy fetched a red scarf from the sea. While part of Raoul desperately wanted to take Christine from the sanitarium and take care of her in a seaside cottage, he had a son and an estate to care for. He was no longer that impertinent lovesick youth. He had responsibilities.

Raoul again tried to force more money on Dr. LeCroix, but the caregiver was running out of ideas. Desperate to be rid of the burden of caring for Christine, Dr. LeCroix begged the Vicomte to allow him to send for an expert to treat the Vicomtesse personally. Raoul reluctantly agreed.

Dr. LeCroix had heard of a German doctor well known for treating and curing the maladies Christine suffered from. A letter to the German was drafted and mailed, but it never reached its true destination. A reply came back nonetheless several days latter written in a strange red ink. The doctor would be there before weeks end to assess the patient. From Dr. LeCroix's initial description of Christine the German wrote back that he would likely remove the Vicomtesse de Chagny from the sanitarium and take her personally into his care. It was welcome news to all.

In the interim, Dr. LeCroix and the nurses and paid little attention to Christine. The German would deal with her in due time. Christine's only companion for the time being was a young nurse named Lucia who walked with her in the gardens everyday. Lucia was a flirtatious girl and had recently struck up a romance with Bill, the sanitarium's main stable worker.

On a particularly dreary day for a walk, Lucia and Christine walked down one of the farthest garden paths from the sanitarium but nearest to the stables. Bill took the opportunity to wander away from his work, sneak out from the bushes and scare Lucia. When she recognized him, Lucia smacked Bill hard on the arm.

"Imbecile! You could have frightened the Vicomtesse. I do not need her taking to one of her fits."

Christine stood in place staring blankly ahead waiting for the walk to continue.

"Bah! Look at her. She is in a daze. Come Lucia. Put her in the gazebo and come with me to the stables. She will not move for hours." Lucia hesitated and then eyed Bill's strong waiting arms.

"All right. But just for a few minutes." Lucia grabbed a hold of the Vicomtesse's arm and led Christine towards a gazebo at the center of the garden. She sat her down on the bench inside.

"You stay here madame. I will return in a bit. Do not move." Lucia waved her hands in front of Christine's blank face. Satisfied by Christine's blank glazed eyes, she grabbed Bill's hand and ran giggling towards the stables. Christine sighed and rolled her eyes and her nurse ran out of sight.

The day was a cold and foggy one much like the first day she arrived here. Or perhaps it was still that first day? Christine could not tell. Time seemed to make no sense to her now. Memories, dreams, the present and the past all seemed the same to her. The people in this place told her that a new doctor, a German, was coming for her. Another man to tell her she was sick and needed to drink foul liquids to ease her mind. She did not care for this turn of events, but could do little to change it so she put it out of her mind.

Through the fog she saw a dark figure approaching. Perhaps this is the new doctor she wondered. He looked strange to her. He did not have the arrogant thuggish gait to his walk the others did. All the doctors and nurses here walked as if they were zookeepers and she the animal. They all approached her as if they were either going to throw meat in her cage or whip her for being disobedient. But this shadow in the fog walked differently. He looked as if a child at the zoo shyly approaching an animal with admiration and awe. Like a little boy who wanted nothing more then to pet a caged animal, free it and take it home as a pet.

She smiled at the thought. An image entered her minds eye of a little boy pointing at a tiger. A blonde man crouched down next to the boy and called him Philippe. They both looked at her and smiled. Was it a memory or a dream she wondered? She did not think she knew any little boys named Philippe.

In her dazed contemplation about boys and tigers, the dark figure had entered the gazebo and sat opposite her. His face was masked by the shadows and fog. She recognized his presence and jump slightly in her seat. Christine cocked her head to the side squinting to try and see his face but could only make out the blackness of his cloak.

"Do Germans favor black?" she enquired.

"Clearly they must for you are dressed head to toe in it." She crossed her arms and legs, settling back into the bench.

"You are my new doctor?"

The man opposite gave a slight nod of his head.

"You must be shocked to hear me converse so easily, no? The others no doubt filled your head with tales of my silence. Humph…I can speak. I choose not to speak to _them_," she pointed at the sanitarium.

"_They_ do not listen to me. So what point is there to talk? I give them my mad ramblings now and then. It seems to please them. But I do not tell them what I am really thinking. They do not listen."

The dark figure sat silently staring at Christine. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"You are quiet. Are doctors allowed to be so quiet? I thought it was against your oath not to interrupt constantly with your opinions." The dark figure let out a chuckle despite himself. A small smile darted across Christine's lips.

"Ah so you are not like them then? Very good. I shall try and tell you what I tell the others, but they fail to listen. Perhaps you will listen?" The dark figure nodded and gestured with his gloved hand for her to continue. Christine inhaled deeply and placed her hands on here knees.

"I do not belong in the city. I know this. I am an embarrassment and I am disliked." The dark figure sighed. It was something he understood very well.

"But I do not belong in this place. I do not need to be caged. I long to be near the sea. A small cottage monsieur, that is all I ask. I shall need a girl to help me, to cook and to clean, but little else. I promise to keep quiet and to keep my sorrow to myself. Please understand I do not fear the solitude. I could never truly be alone near the sea. It always calls out and whispers; like a never-ending song. Sometimes it is a soft and calming song. Other times it bellows and thunders. But the sea is always singing…it never stops…it never leaves." Christine trailed off, her eyes gazing into the fog.

The dark figure shifted in hopes she would return to him and with a sudden jolt she looked at him in terror.

"Please monsieur, do not tell them! I have never said so much. I am not allowed to speak on songs or of music. It is forbidden. I have never spoken my true reason for wanting the sea. I have only ever told the others my memories of the violinist. If they know the song that the sea sings they shall never let me go. I do not know why I told you. Oh please monsieur, keep my secret!" Tears of desperation welled in her eyes. The dark figure spoke.

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Oh thank you monsieur!" She plunged towards him, dropped to her knees and kissed his gloved hands. She gripped onto his hands tightly looking up. His upturned collar shielded his face.

"You are a kind doctor. I will trust you. Please monsieur; consider my wish for the sea. I will allow you to travel there with me. I know they will not allow me to leave this place without a doctor. Please sir, get me away from this place and take me to the sea." The dark figure stroked Christine's hair. His gloved hand wiped the tears from her cheek and lifted her chin up so he could see her face.

"I will do as you ask," he replied. Christine looked up at the shadowed man with gratitude and admiration. At last and angel had heard her prayers.

The giggling voice of Lucia came billowing through the fog. The dark figure stood up and led Christine back to the bench from whence she came. She held onto his hands whimpering apprehensively as he turned to leave her.

"Stay with your nurse. I will come for you soon enough." Christine sat still and returned to her dull gaze. The dark figure smiled at her attempts to play possum. He turned away and walked back into the fog and shadows.

Lucia and Bill laughed and stumbled into the gazebo.

"See you ninny. She is still where you left her. Now give us a kiss." Bill grabbed the giggling Lucia and planted a wet slobbery kiss on her lips.

"Go away Bill," she replied with a push. He pinched her ample bottom and scampered off laughing towards the stables. Lucia sighed and looked down annoyed at Christine.

"Come madame. It is time to go back inside."


	5. The Doctor's Visit

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 5:** **The Doctor's Visit**

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Dr. LeCroix was at his wits end what to do with the Vicomtesse de Chagny. While he enjoyed the money that came from her care he greatly disliked her case. His sanitarium was meant only for moody gentlewomen spurned by their lovers. It was nothing more than a resort. The de Chagny woman was genuinely mad. Dr. LeCroix did not have the knowledge or the staff to meet the needs of this woman.

The only thing to be done was to send for an expert. It had to be a foreigner. Discretion was of the utmost importance. A French doctor would be far too tempted to leak information about his patient to the Parisian elite. So LeCroix had sent a letter to a German doctor, a man he heard read was an expert in such matters. Much to LeCroix's relief the German was only too eager to take on the Vicomtesse' case.

The door to Dr. LeCroix's office opened and a man entered. With a flourish he removed his cloak and hung it on the coat rack. Dr. LeCroix raised his head from out of his hands and took notice of his guest.

"Dr. Heinrich I presume?" Dr. LeCroix now took a closer look at the man across from him in puzzlement. His guest was dressed neatly in black, but donned the oddest accessory. The man's face was covered in a mask. Dr. LeCroix's mouth was agape as to what sort of man stood before him. The dark figure laughed at him with a sinister dull roar from the back of his throat.

"Come now you cannot be so naïve. Did you honestly think a doctor who spends his days with the damned would be without scars?

Dr. LeCroix blushed with embarrassment. Of course Dr. Heinrich would have me with many a vicious madman and woman in his work. Why only yesterday he Vicomtesse had tried to scratch him with her nails.

"My…my apologies monsieur. I am sorry for your injuries. You are a very brave man." LeCroix stammered trying not to look directly at the mask. Erik let out a small humph in recognition. The ratty little man before him was scared, but also humble. Humility was something that Erik rarely ever received from another person. If he had known this was the reaction he would get, he would have pretended to be a doctor long ago. The fidgeting Dr. LeCroix gestured for him to take the seat opposite his desk and Erik obliged. Still avoiding direct eye contact, LeCroix continued.

"Dr. Heinrich you must be eager to see the Vicomtesse yourself?"

"I have already seen her. She was just outside."

"Was she?" LeCroix looked momentarily panicked she had been set loose, but then remembered her routine.

"Oh yes her daily walk. But surely you will need more time with her to make a diagnosis?"

"No. You forget sir I have dealt with hundreds like her before. I had formed an opinion before coming here. It only took a moment to confirm it. I know what is to be done with her."

"And what is that?" LeCroix prompted.

"She needs seclusion. I must take her away from this place and treat her myself."

Dr. LeCroix had hoped as much. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of the Vicomtesse.

"Where shall you be taking her monsieur? I am more than willing to relinquish the caretaker's role, but her husband may object to your plans."

"Nonsense. He signed her away to your care and you shall sign her over to me. I can hardly see what interest he would have in the specifics as long as she is cared for. It was my understanding that all parties wish for the utmost discretion."

"Oui monsieur, but the Vicomte has made two small insignificant demands in regards to his wife. I am sure your plans will not interfere."

Curious what sort of limitations Raoul had imposed, Erik gestured for Dr. LeCroix to continue.

"The first is in regards to the Vicomtesse's constant request to visit the sea. The Vicomte has forbidden this. He says it will remind her of her father and feed into her madness. The other limitation is that she must not be exposed to music of any kind. Music greatly distresses her and it will also fuel her madness."

Erik sat quietly for a moment before replying.

"You know that she was a great opera singer do you not? The greatest Paris had ever known."

"No monsieur." Dr. LeCroix replied fidgeting in his seat.

"And that her father was a great violinist?"

"Is that so?" Dr. LeCroix replied desperate for the conversation to be over.

"It seems very curious that her husband would forbid her from such memories."

"It is not my place to question sir. I do what I am paid to do."

"But not for long. She shall soon be my burden."

"Oui monsieur, but may I ask how soon until you will be able to take the Vicomtesse into your care?

Erik had to pause at this question. He knew Dr. LeCroix would ask it, but was frustrated at the answer he must give. Erik wanted nothing more than to take Christine immediately and to disappear. But such an act would only raise suspicion. He knew well enough it would only re-ignite Raoul's passion and protectiveness over Christine. Things must be done slowly, correctly. Raoul must willingly hand over Christine to strangers and he must forget about her. It was not in Erik's best interest to steal her this time. If he waited, he could have her freely. If he stole her, he would end up with nothing.

"I shall need three weeks to make the necessary arrangements."

Dr. LeCroix's stomach dropped. So long and yet he realized it was not so long. The alternative was to have the Vicomtesse in his care indefinitely.

"I had rather hoped it would be sooner, but we will do our best to care for her in the interim. Shall we discuss your plans with the Vicomte this afternoon?"

"No. I will leave here immediately to prepare for the patient's care."

"But…but…is it not best to meet with the family beforehand? To set their minds at ease that you will take care of their loved ones?

"On the contrary sir. I find that meeting with me only upsets the family. I am the doctor that is called for when all hope is lost. Only the worst patients cross my path as you can see." Erik gestured towards his mask.

"Meeting me only makes husbands second guess their decision. One look at my mask them believe their wives could not possibly be so far gone as to need someone like me. I have no doubt sir that if the Vicomte and I meet he will keep her in your sanitarium forever. You shall never be rid of her."

"Oh no monsieur!" Dr. LeCroix shuttered at the thought. "It is much better that the two of you do not meet. But I will be the greatest advocate for you. Yes I will. I will convince the Vicomte to hand his wife over to you. I assure you she will be ready for you when you return."

Erik rose from his chair preparing to leave. Dr. LeCroix did not realize the conversation had already ended so abruptly. He thought there was more to say, but Dr. Heinrich did not seem to agree and LeCroix stumbled to follow his guest.

Erik grabbed his cloak and announced, "I shall see the Vicomtesse once more before I leave."

"Of course. This way." Dr. LeCroix replied.

The drapes in Christine's room had been drawn. Christine had returned from her walk and lay on her bed with one hand covering her eyes as if she suffered from a terrible headache. Two men appeared in the doorway and Erik gestured for LeCroix to leave him. Erik entered the shadowy room.

Christine heard someone enter and removed the hand from her eyes. In the blurriness of her vision she saw a black pants legs next to her bed. She equated the black with the German she had just seen in the gazebo. She moved to rise and spoke.

"Are we leaving?"

"No Christine" he replied placing his gloved hand on her shoulder. "No I must go prepare your cottage by the sea. I shall be gone for some days, but when I return I will take you from this place and bring you to the sea."

Erik waited expecting Christine to cry and kiss his hands in gratitude as she had done before. He was going to take her to a cottage by the sea just as she had asked. Christine sank back into her pillow and covered her eyes with her hand again. She replied to him indifferently. "I shall be here."

When she sensed he was still standing next to her, she waved her hand at him and tutted "You may go now."

Erik was thoroughly annoyed. Christine had just dismissed him like he was a servant. He wanted nothing more than to grab her from the bed and slap her for her haughtiness. Erik heard the shuffling of Dr. LeCroix behind him and turned.

"Apologies monsieur, but the Vicomte will be arriving soon. I think it best if you leave now so you two do not cross paths." Erik looked back down at Christine.

"I shall return Christine and when I do you _will_ learn some manners," he growled. Indifferent to Erik's menacing tone Christine waved her hand shooing him out the door.


	6. The Husband's Visit

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 6: The Husband's Visit  
**

* * *

Raoul arrived at the sanitarium without incident. Dr. LeCroix made apologies for Dr. Heinrich's absence and pressed the importance of handing over Christine to his expert care. Raoul watched as his wife sitting across from him smoothing the wrinkles from out her skirt. 

"Doctor I am not convinced that my wife needs such an expert. She is so calm today, so much nearer to her old self. I think staying here is doing her good. I do not think she needs to be given up to another doctor so hastily."

"I am sorry but I must disagree. Do not let her current calmness trick you. She is getting worse by the day."

Raoul watched Christine and remained steadfast.

"No. I think all she needs is some more here and she will be quiet well enough to go home." Dr. LeCroix looked exacerbated as Raoul rose from his chair. Christine took little notice of either of them.

"I would like to see how well Christine's room is being kept. Please show me."

"Of course. This nurse will show you." Dr. LeCroix waved Lucia to come forward.

"I shall stay here with your wife as she does not seem to want to leave at present." Raoul looked at his wife urging her to rise, but when she made no motion to do so he resignedly left without her. As Raoul and Lucia exited Dr. LeCroix's office, the doctor moved closer to Christine.

"Madame? Madame can you hear me?" Dr. LeCroix spoke to her. She looked at him in recognition.

"Madame to do you remember the other doctor who was here today? The one dressed all in black?"

"The German?" she squeaked.

"Oui madame, the German. Would you like him to take care of you from now on?" Christine made no response. Dr. LeCroix reworded his query.

"Would it please you to leave this place? To leave the sanitarium?" She looked at him hopeful.

"Of course."

"Well I regret to inform you that you husband does not want you to leave here. He does not want to take you home with him to Paris, and he will not let you leave here with the German doctor. Your husband insists that you stay here…forever" Dr. LeCroix added his own last ominous twist. It may well be forever if the Vicomte's opinion was not changed quickly.

Christine moved in her chair whimpering. She looked around for exits, ways to escape. She did not want to stay in the place forever. Dr. LeCroix leaned in again posing a suggestion.

"Madame, when you are unhappy with us you scream and scratch. You have screamed and scratched me, Lucia, and practically everyone else in this place. Why do you not do scream and scratch your husband? You should show your husband how unhappy you are with him leaving you here. Show him how much you hate this place."

Raoul and Lucia returned to the office. Christine rose and looked her husband straight in the eye. He smiled at her and extended his arms bidding her to him. Christine walked forward calmly coming very near her husband. She looked him deep in the eye and as he tried to interpret the strange message in her eyes, she slashed his cheek with her nails. Raoul stepped back and clutched his face. He looked at the blood on his hands and then at his wife in disbelief.

Christine screamed and threw the full force of her body against him tripping him backwards onto the floor. She hit at his chest ripping at his coat. Dr. LeCroix watched and halted Lucia from intervening. He looked at her and silently communicated that this was the only ay to be rid of her. Let her be.

Raoul still had weight and strength over Christine and thrust her off of him. At this point Dr. LeCroix signaled for orderlies to come and take the Vicomtesse away. They held her momentarily and she glared at Raoul, her face wet and clammy, her lip dripping with spittle. Raoul looked horrified as they pulled her out the office and she screamed back at him obscenities.

Raoul sank into the chair opposite Dr. LeCroix's desk, his cheek red with blood and his coat shredded and torn.

"I am sorry Vicomte truly I am" Dr. LeCroix began. "I warned you not to be fooled by her calmness. These rages come on so suddenly. May we get you anything to calm your nerves?" Raoul shook his head no. He sat for some time before he finally spoke to Dr. LeCroix.

"She is worse now than before. Can you do nothing more for her?"

"No monsieur. We are doing all that we know how. It is not enough."

Raoul paused once again. He had a defeated look in his eye.

"When will this expert take her away?"

The final arrangements for Christine's new caretaker were made quickly. Dr. LeCroix was very eager to finalize the matter in writing while the Vicomte was still in shock. Once the papers were signed, there was no going back. Dr. Heinrich would take Christine in three weeks time. Dr. LeCroix describe Dr. Heinrich's reputation and his success stories. Raoul heard very little of it. He simply signed the paper that was put in front of him, his eyes glazed over with sadness. With the matter settled, Raoul rose to take his leave.

"Will you see her again before she leaves with Dr. Heinrich?" Dr. LeCroix asked as he walked the Vicomte to his carriage.

"I do not know" Raoul replied. "I fear it shall only upset her more." Raoul climbed into his carriage looking back at the sanitarium and saying goodbye to his wife silently.

"Good day doctor. Please tell Dr. Heinrich to take good care of her. It is clear to me now that I cannot." And with that Raoul shut the carriage door close.

As the carriage drove back into the heart of Paris, Raoul did his best to make peace with his decision. It was for the best he told himself. It was what she needed. It was what he needed.

That evening the Vicomte de Changy made a grand entrance into the front parlor of Msr. and Mm. Montealieri. There was an audible gasp by those in attendance. It was to have been a rather dull affair, but what a coup to have Raoul de Chagny in attendance.

The ladies of the party remarked on how well Raoul looked, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The absence of his wife Christine only fueled gossip.

"Perhaps he has finally tired of her and taken on a mistress," one whispered.

"I should not deny him if he looked my way" her companion whispered back. The women giggled and leered at Raoul. Some of the gentlemen did the same.

For the first time in years, Raoul made conscious note of those leers and scanned the rooms to see if anyone was worth returning the favor. A very pretty little thing sat in the corner fluttering her eyes at him. While her parents flanked her, Raoul boldly moved towards her. The hostess Madame Montealieri noted the Vicomte's favoritism of the girl. This was the girl's first introduction to Parisian society and Madame Montealieri smiled that she would be able claim success in the long running bet to seduce the Vicomte, at least by virtue of her connections. She was after all the one to first invite the girl to Paris. Madame Monealieri considered her party a very great success.


	7. Departure

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 7: Departure  
**

* * *

It was the morning of Christine's departure and she had suffered from a long and unsettling nightmare. Christine dreamed that she was alone on a stage trying to sing. There were people in the audience but none of them would listen to her. They were filing out the doors turning their backs on her. A particularly elegant gentleman stared down at her from the box seat above the stage. He shook his head, put his top hat on, and turned away from her. She moved to make them come back. 

"Please stay. Please listen to me." No one would stay with her. No one would listen. They all turned their backs and exited until she was the only one left in the theater. The lights dimmed around her. Fear began to take hold as she sensed something in the darkness was stalking her. Christine took a step forward and the floor beneath her disappeared, plunging her into darkness. She fell deeper and deeper into the black. Christine awoke with a scream.

Lucia dressed the Vicomtesse as best she could but Christine was being very bad that morning. Christine kept begging for more and more lamps to be lit. She was afraid of the dark she said. Lucia paid little attention to Christine's ramblings since this was finally the day they would be rid of her.

Erik's return to the sanitarium was marked with both a quiet fear and celebration. Those few who dared peak out at him in the courtyard felt terror at the sight of him and yet gratitude for his taking Christine away. They reprimanded themselves for thinking so lowly of the Vicomtesse that they should want to hand her over to the demon pacing the front courtyard. And yet the alternative of having to care for her themselves was none that any of them wished to entertain.

Lucia and Bill entered the courtyard caring Christine's things. As the couple placed the baggage into the carriage they both looked apprehensively and Erik and they very dodgy looking girl that stood near him.

"She is a very odd looking maid do you not think?" Lucia whispered to Bill.

"Not as odd as a masked doctor." Bill retorted back.

Erik did not want to have a maid for Christine. He wanted her for himself and he could care for all her needs. But the demands of society dictated that servants should surround a woman of Christine's ranking. She herself had asked for a girl to care for her in her seaside cottage. In his efforts to proceed with things slowly and correctly, Erik relented to having a girl travel with him and Christine to the coast. A real maid would not do. He needed a girl that was expendable. In the darker corners of Paris he found such a girl.

Colette lived on a street populated by murders, thieves and prostitutes. The bastard daughter of a tavern owner and long forgotten whore, Colette had spent her existence thus far serving the drunkards in her father's tavern. Colette was a saucy girl and greatly enjoyed talking back to the drunkards. As she grew older her retorts to them became quicker and more pointed. Her sauciness with the drunkards made her a bit of a celebrity, particularly amusing the prostitutes who enjoyed seeing the men made fools of.

It was a talent that soon got her into trouble however. One night a very dangerous sailor became very sick of the sound of her voice. When Colette was not looking he thrust her down on a table and sliced part of her tongue out. While her mutilated tongue healed over, Colette never spoke again. The incoherent moans that came out of her mouth disgusted everyone including herself. While she was not entirely mute, she may have well been. She longed for death or for escape. Her desperation and silence appealed to Erik.

Colette was no fool. She knew she was making a deal with the devil himself when Erik first appeared her. He said would pay her to travel to the northern coast with him and a lady. Once there Colette would be left on her own. No doubt this masked man would kill her, but she felt herself clever enough and believed she had a sliver of a chance surviving. If she truly made it to the coast alive, perhaps she could find passage to England or even to America. Such an opportunity would never again present itself to one such as her. So she shook hands with the devil, stole as much money as she could sew into her skirts, and ventured into the unknown.

As the clean maid and stable-hand put bags into the back of the carriage, Colette gave the man a leering look she had often seen prostitutes give potential customers. The clean maid looked shocked and grabbed the stable-hand dragging him back towards the fancy building. Colette smiled sheepishly. It was exactly the sort of rise she wanted out of the clean maid. Serves her right for being so disgustingly prissy.

Dr. LeCroix led Christine out into the courtyard. She looked as if she had been heavily drugged. Christine stumbled and swayed, looking as if she may vomit at any moment. Erik's stomach twinged with anger, but he held back. Perhaps it was for the best she was so heavily drugged. He did not want her to recognize him in front of these people. If she screamed out his name, screamed out his identity, it would reach Raoul. It was not that he feared Raoul. He could kill the vain aristocrat in an instant. No Erik feared the sway Raoul had over Christine. He wanted Christine completely this time. Raoul must give up on her. Dr. LeCroix helped Christine into the carriage and Colette scooted in beside her.

"If she needs to stop bang on the carriage door." Erik order Colette. She nodded in recognition and he slammed the door shut. Erik climbed into the drivers seat and whipped the horses into motion. The carriage disappeared over the horizon much to the relief of Dr. LeCroix and his staff. The greatest challenge that Dr. LeCroix had to deal with for the remainder of the day was finding Madame Ardant's missing bottle of lavender water. It was peaceful in the sanitarium once again.


	8. Trains and Tumblers

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 8: Trains and Tumblers  
**

**

* * *

**

The train station was filled with more commotion than Christine had seen in years. Erik feared she might snap her own neck the way she was turning her head so sharply to see all the people around her.

The train was the fastest route north, but Erik would have preferred not to take it. With so many people at the station, it was inevitable people would begin to stare at him. He would have preferred to take a ferry traveling north on the Seine where he could hide his party quickly below deck without been seen, but the river was much slower. There was no such thing as a leisurely disappearance by a phantom and he would sacrifice a certain amount of inconspicuousness for speed.

Making their way through the crowds on the platform proved to be an annoyance, but at least his years of extorting the opera house managers allowed him the ability to secure privacy once on the train. While other passengers boarded the general cars, Erik was able to rush his companions into a private compartment. He closed the glass doors and drew the velveteen curtains. Colette and Christine sat on one seat looking out the window. Erik sat down opposite, pulling up his collar over his face, crossing his arms and glaring at the door keeping watch. So intent was he at keeping guard he hardly heard Christine when she pointed out the window and spoke,

"Raoul!"

Erik imagined he heard incorrectly. He looked at her and then looked out the window. There across the platform standing amongst a small group of well-dressed ladies and a gentleman was Raoul de Chagny. Erik leaned back quickly into the seat so not to be seen.

"Colette close the curtains" he barked angrily. Colette cocked a defiant eyebrow. She did her best to mouth the word "who" and gestured out the window.

"Her husband" he spat back and kicked her hard in the shin to obey. Colette had no particular loyalties to any of her companions, but as she was being paid to do what they said, she rose, rubbed her throbbing leg and stood in front of the window.

Colette took her time to scan the platform trying to pick out which of the dozens of people passing by was the man in question. Christine craned her neck around the girl blocking the window to see her husband, found him and spoke again,

"Raoul."

This time Colette saw him. A very rich looking gentleman in a gray overcoat stood encircled by two women and an elderly gentleman. The women looked like they might be mother and daughter. The older woman wore a dark purple coat with matching hat, while the younger woman wore a white coat with a pink scarf. The girl looked a little older than Colette, eighteen at most. Colette could see the girl with the pink scarf touching the man called Raoul's arm and laughing. The girl in the pink scarf rose on her toes and kissed the man called Raoul on the cheek. Christine saw the gesture and let out an upset whimper.

"Colette!" Erik yelled at her louder than before. Colette turned back and gave him a gesture that she was getting around to it. Before Colette closed the curtains she started banging hard against the window.

Raoul and his companions turned towards a very loud and sudden banging. In the window of the northern train they saw a very unattractive servant banging on the window. The servant girl made a series of very rude hand gestures at them before closing the curtains.

"Well I never!" gasped Lady Ives, the mother.

"Appalling what help will do these days isn't it my dear?" replied her husband Lord Ives.

"Oh my deepest apologies," Raoul began flushed with embarrassment. "Had I known I would be exposing you to such vulgarities I never would have suggested taking the train."

"No no, it is not your fault" the young Beatrice Ives replied grasping more tightly onto his forearm. "I am just grateful you are hear to guide us through such a exciting and unpredictable place." Raoul blushed again.

"Well I am afraid I am not a very good guide. This platform is for the train heading north. You train departs from the next platform over I believe. Please follow me and I will try to get you to the correct destination."

Erik could barely contain his rage at the girl. Not only had Colette balked at fulfilling his orders, but she purposely went out of her way to make sure she was seen by Raoul de Chagny. Colette plopped herself back in her seat with a smug look on her face. Erik slapped it right off of her.

"How dare you, you ignorant little street rat. I am your master! You will do as I say when I say it."

Colette rubbed the side of her face red hot with pain from his blow. The madwoman's husband deserved more than a few rude hand gestures. Colette did not understand how the madwoman could have done anything so awful that her husband would hand her over to the villainous bastard that just slapped her. Colette tried not to show any fear or weakness in front of the masked devil. If she was going to die at this man's hand, and it was looking more likely that she would, Colette would leave this wretched world fighting, not cowering. Perhaps the madwomen would not give her husband or the masked devil any grief, but Colette figured she might as well since she was good as dead.

As Colette and Erik stared at each other and he berated her with more angry words, the train lurched forward. Christine pulled at the curtains panicking, seeing the train was indeed pulling away from the platform. She whimpered to herself,

"No. No! Raoul please, I will be good. I do not want to go to the sea. I want to go home. I will be good. I promise. Please do not leave me."

Christine rose and stumbled towards the door. Erik and Colette did not notice her at first, too engrossed in their own bickering. Christine's hand gripped the door handle and opened it just slightly before she felt Erik's arms grip roughly against her waist and pull her down.

"No Christine" he reprimanded her kicking the door closed again. She struggled in his arms.

"Let me go!" she tried to scream, her faced muffled by his chest.

"No Christine" he gritted through his teeth trying to hold onto her squirming body.

Colette sat back watching the woman fight against the masked devil. It was not as if this she had never seen man fight against a women. She lived in neighborhood of drunks and prostitutes after all, but this was different. The prostitutes in her neighborhood could handle themselves, but this tiny little madwoman looked like a baby bird pecking against a giant tree. No matter how much she struggled the masked man was unmovable. Colette felt badly for the woman.

Christine began to feel the futility of her fighting and fell sobbing into the floor. Her crying was uncontrollable. A knock came at the door.

"The is the steward. Is everything all right?"

"Go away. I am a doctor and my patient is distressed, but I have things under control" Erik barked loudly at the doors.

"May I come in and be of assistance? The noise may be upsetting to our other passengers. I would like it to stop" The steward attempted to open the door. Erik pushed it back hard and shut it.

"No you may not come in! I paid well for this privacy. Leave us alone! Damn the other passengers. Do you really think a steward can contain a madwoman's screams if her doctor cannot?"

"Mad? Mon dui! Monsieur perhaps you and your companions should leave the train. We will refund your money."

Erik annoyed at the steward's meddling stepped over the crying heap that was Christine and opened the door. The steward's eyes went wide and his face pale when he saw a masked man staring down at him.

"You find her crying upsetting do you? Well I find your voice irritating. Let us see what we can do about our two problems shall we?"

Erik closed the door behind him and steeped into the hallway. Colette could see the shadows of the two men reflected against the wall directly outside the compartment. She saw Erik's hands cover the man's mouth and the other hand grip onto his neck. In a quick movement Erik snapped the steward's neck, the body falling to the ground.

Erik disappeared for several minutes before returning back to the compartment. Christine lay on the floor in the fetal position. Colette sat motionless in her seat, cold with dread. Erik picked Christine up off the floor and laid her down on the velveteen seat bench. He covered her with his cloak. Pale and defeated, Christine remained motionless on the bench staring blankly ahead with despair.

"No one will bother us now Christine. Lie here and take a nap. You are just tired. You will be happy when we reach the sea." Erik leaned back calmly and contently, looking out the window.

Colette turned her eyes away from him. It was certain now that she was going to die. This man would kill here the second she no longer played a part in his evil little plans. She starred at Christine. God have mercy on that poor wretch of a woman, for this masked devil would never kill her. He would keep her with him forever. That, Colette felt, was an even worse fate than hers.

---

Raoul de Chagny had made his way home from the train station. He sat in front of his drawing room fireplace fingering a crystal tumbler filled with brandy.

Christine was gone. Dr. Heinrich had taken her away today. Raoul knew he should have been at the sanitarium to see her off. He had planned on being there. He imagined he would kiss her softly and say that he loved her before he placing her in the doctor's carriage. But in the days prior to her departure he saw nothing but reminders of her madness. Every time he walked the hallway near his bedroom he saw shadows of her clawing at the walls and screaming in misery. He looked for excuses not to go to the sanitarium that day. Dinners, plays, baptisms…anything that would keep him away.

The introduction of Lord and Lady Ives into his life presented him with an opportunity. A wealthy couple from England, they were in France for an extended holiday, traveling with their daughter Beatrice. Raoul engaged Lord Ives in many spirited discussions about the arts, but it was the daughter Beatrice that had him enraptured.

Beatrice was breathtaking. She had porcelain skin and dark elegant curls, just like Christine had when he first saw her at the opera house. Beatrice was taller than Christine and more slender, but she had a lovely curvature to her bosom that enthralled Raoul's lustier side. Beatrice was in many ways Christine's doppelganger, except for one critical area. Unlike Christine, Beatrice had been taught well the delicate intricacies of upper class society. Beatrice could hold her own against Parisian women and Raoul was impressed by her skills. Beatrice was all that Christine was and more.

When the Lord Ives mentioned to Raoul that they were taking a trip to the French countryside and departing the same day as Christine, Raoul jumped at the chance to be their guide. It was a perfect excuse not to see his mad wife off.

At first Lord and Lady Ives declined his invitation, but Beatrice insisted that Raoul be at least allowed to say goodbye. Lord Ives had thought of taking a carriage out of Paris, but Raoul suggested the train since it was faster. That way he said they would have more time to enjoy the country.

Nervous at impressing the family, Raoul took a wrong turn at the train station. Trying to cover up his poor sense of direction, Raoul stopped on the Normandy platform to chat about traveling in general. It was on this platform that they saw a servant girl make rude gestures at them out the train window.

The incident had unsettled him, but not for the social implications of offending the Ives family. Raoul was not one to believe in signs or omens and yet part of him could not help thinking it was a message meant solely for him. The servant girl was his own nagging conscious reprimanding him for tossing off his wife to try and gain favor with this girl and her family. The Ives had seen the servant girl as well, so it was not a figment of his imagination, but what happened next surely must have been.

Before the servant girl closed the curtains, Raoul swore he saw Christine sitting in the train compartment starring back at him. _That_ image the Ives did not see. The vision of Christine was a vision meant only for him. It had to have been a vision after all. Dr. Heinrich was taking Christine east to Germany, not north to the Normandy coast. Christine would not have been on the northern train. She would not have been at the train station at all.

The brandy decanter became less and less full. Raoul's crystal tumbler became more and more. He drank himself into oblivion, obsessing over the vision of Christine. Drunkenness mixed with bitterness. In his hazed vision he thought he saw his wife sitting in the chair opposite him. He swore out at the phantom wife.

"I deserve to be happy," he slurred. "You are cursed. You always were. I want a new wife. I want a better wife."

His phantom Christine laughed at him.

"Stop it. I should have left you with him. You are a monster. You killed my little girl. You deserve to be with a monster. I hate you. I want a new wife."

Raoul slurred and drank until the decanter was empty. Sweating from the liquor and from the heat of the fire, he fell from the leather chair and slumped into a heap near the fireplace. The butler found him there shortly thereafter. The Vicomte de Chagny refused to be moved. The butler covered him with a blanket. The Vicomte lay their motionless, staring blankly into the fire, lost in his own drunken despair.


	9. A Night at Madame Kable’s

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 9: A Night at Madame Kable's**

* * *

The train pulled into the station at Dieppe and Erik gestured for this companions to depart. The train did not go as far as the coastal village they were headed for. This city was as far as the steam beast could carry them.

Christine swayed and moaned like a stiff zombie and drew attention to herself and her two strange companions. The stares made Erik nervous and he grabbed the nearest station clerk to assist him.

"Boy! Fetch me a carriage and load these trunks."

"Yes sir. Right away sir."

Within minutes the trunks and women were shoved into a cabman's care. Erik ordered the driver to take him to a place known to him by reputation only. A place that for the right price, he and Christine would be cared for and quickly forgotten.

Madame Kable's ears perked at the sound of the cab outside her door. She flew outside to inspect the prospects. Cold and indifferent to them at first sight she quickly warmed into a gracious hostess when the first of many gold coins were dropped into her hands.

"Good evening and welcome madames and monsieur. My son Luc will attend to your luggage. Come in. Come in my dears."

Madame Kable's home did not call attention to itself inside or out. It was just large enough to suit her, her son Luc, and a handful of guests. She was a woman of business, the business of keeping guests whom no one else wanted to keep. It was a profitable enough business though sometimes dangerous. There was always good reason that the reputable inns and lodges did not want the guests that she lodged.

She eyed Erik's mask, the sickly looking gentlewoman he helped into the foyer, and the ratty looking servant girl loitering at her front door. Trouble all three of them.

Luc, a gangly looking boy of fifteen, slinked past the guests handling Christine's trunks as best as he could. Colette in her own ill manned way took a long look at Luc as he climbed up the stairs. They were about the same age and this was the first boy she had ever met that was not from her own neighborhood. She had not decided if she was in love with him yet, but she thought she would consider it. This boy would surely inherit this house when his old crone of a mother died. Nicer than her father's tavern, Colette began to take inventory of the place.

Madame Kable did not like the look of the ratty looking girl or the way she eyed all of her belongings including her son. She especially did not like the stump of a tongue the girl tried to keep hidden in her mouth. Someone had cut that tongue out. That was obvious enough. Madame Kable would deal with the girl as needed, but back to the matter at hand, the man who paid her.

"Will you be dining with us this evening sir?"

"Is there privacy?"

"Oui monsieur! Like a hidden fortress is my kitchen. Come. Come and dine."

Madame Kable escorted them through a darkened hallway past the modest sitting room and into the steaming kitchen. On the stove some sort of a soup was boiling and burping away. A small pine table sat in the corner that could sit at most five people. Erik removed Christine's cloak and set her down at the table. He himself removed his own cape in a particularly grand flourish. His years in the opera house had taught him to play to the balcony so to speak. His performance turned out to be for no one in particular. Christine was still locked inside her own dazed melancholy. Colette was too busy taking inventory of the place she had already decided was her own. Madame Kable was too preoccupied slapping the ratty girl's hands for opening a drawer to see what was inside. Colette retreated to the pine table scowling at the innkeeper.

"Monsieur I have been preparing a leek soup. Will this meal suffice?"

"For the women." he growled lowering his masked face away.

"And for you monsieur?"

"Nothing."

"As you wish."

Madame Kable took for out her cupboard a pseudo-elegant bowl for Christine. It was an imitation of a Far East design with blue pagodas and dragons lining the outside. She ladled the soup and placed it delicately in front of the gentlewoman with a silver plated spoon. For Colette she haphazardly ladled soup into a chipped clay bowl with a wooden spoon and slammed it down in front of Colette. Colette made a rude face at the woman's blatant slight.

Madame Kable paused for a moment hoping she had not misjudged the girl's place in this trio. If she was not a servant and in fact this villainous man's daughter, the slight might mean trouble for her and her son. She looked to the man scowling in the shadows. He seemed to have an equally low opinion of the ratty looking girl. The slight had been acceptable. Madame Kable continued to fuss over the dazed looking gentlewoman placing fresh bread and wine in front of her. She heartily ignored the street rat. Annoyed by her fussing Erik spoke to her.

"That will be all madame. Please leave us." Madame Kable stopped mid-step. She turned to him and bowed.

"I shall be in the next room should you need anything."

Colette began eating her soup like a mongrel, slurping it into her gullet. Christine sat poised spoon in hand, but made no movement to start.

"Eat Christine" Erik ordered her. She looked at him glass eyed and spoke.

"It is improper for me to begin before the gentleman. I must wait."

"I am not eating. Begin Christine." He ordered again. She shook her head defiantly. He moved towards her frustrated by whatever strange table manners Raoul de Chagny had taught her to obey. He grabbed the soup ladle from the pot and took a scalding sip showing her he had eaten. He tossed the ladle back into the pot.

"Eat!" he ordered her a final time. Christine brought the spoon delicately it her lips and began. Erik grunted at the sight and began to pace the room.

The day had not gone entirely as he had planned. He had successfully gotten Christine out of Paris, but there was already one dead body left in their wake. He did not want to leave breadcrumbs for Raoul de Chagny to follow. He knew he had to take better care in suppressing his murderous temper.

Erik's mind turned to the boy handling Christine's trunks. Where was that boy now? He had not seen or heard him since he first slinked past them to carry the baggage upstairs to the bedrooms. Erik eyed the back stairwell.

"Colette stay here. Should either of you move from that table I will torture you. Do you understand?" Colette nodded and focused her wary eye back on the soup trying not to show here fear.

Erik moved quickly to the stairwell and silently rose to the floor above. A dusty and dirty runner lay along the length of the upstairs hallway helping to muffle his steps. Towards the middle of the hallway a door was left slightly ajar. Erik pushed the door open slowly so not to alert the boy within. The room was modest. A large bed took up most of the space. Christine's trunks lay neatly stacked on the floor.

Luc knelt crouched before one of the trunks. He had taken the liberty of opening it. He pulled a silk chemise out to the box and whistled. Erik grabbed the nearest weapon he could find, the tattered braided rope from off the drapes. He swiftly moved behind the boy and brought the rope taught around his neck and pulled.

Luc struggled gasping for air, flailing his arms trying to push at his attacker. He coughed and choked moving desperately to break free; Erik relented and dropped the boy to the floor. Looking up Luc saw the masked man and tried to apologize.

"Plee…ease. I was just looking. I did not steal."

Erik pulled the boy up only to push him hard on his chest, tumbling Luc backwards over Christine's trunks.

"Insolent boy. How dare you touch her things."

Tears poured down Luc's cheeks. His nose was dripping, the snot spattered outwards as he made desperate gasps. Luc clenched his eyes shut inwardly praying he might actually live to see another day. Madame Kable heard the noises above and ran up the stairs to see what was that matter. Erik heard her from behind.

"Get up" Erik told the boy coldly. Luc did so crying and not trying to look the masked man or his mother in the eye.

"For the money I am paying you I would appreciate you son not stealing our things."

"Apologies sir. It will never happen again." Madame Kable grabbed Luc by the arm and pulled him hastily out of the room. Erik restacked his Christine's trunk into perfect alignment and returned to the kitchen.

In the sitting room Madame Kable begin to reprimand her son.

"Mon dui! Do you want us to be killed?!"

"No mama."

"How many times must I tell you not to look through the boxes?"

"I'm sorry mama. She was just so pretty. I wanted to see her things."

"You will ruin my business boy. You and your curiosity."

"She is very rich mama."

"That is none of our concern."

"She had a pretty silk gown."

"Enough Luc. Consider yourself lucky he did not kill you. He still might should you do anything else foolish."

"Can we keep the girl mama?"

"What?"

"The girl. I feel badly for her mama. He must be an awful father."

"She is a servant. She is not his daughter."

"How do you know?"

"I am far smarter than you boy. I know many things."

"I like the girl mama."

"She is a mute and a thief. You are not allowed to like her."

"A mute is not so bad. She would be a very good listener."

"And what would she listen to? You? Ha! What do you have to say that is so very interesting?"

"It would just be nice to have a friend. I think she is pretty."

"Oh mon dui! Why must I be cursed with a son such as you? Luc you will forget these people as soon as they leave this house. Especially the girl. Promise me!"

"Yes mama. But I cannot help it if I like her. I do like her."

"Luc so help me I will let that man strangle you if you keep this nonsense up."

"No mama. I am sorry mama."

Erik and Christine entered into the sitting room, Colette trailing behind. Madame Kable rose to great them and have them sit.

"No madame, we shall be retiring to our room." Erik spoke.

"Oh…of course."

"Do not let the boy retire yet, I have errands for him." Madame Kable looked at her red-necked son warily.

"Of course sir. We are at your service sir."

Erik brought Christine to the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. She looked at him dreary eyed.

"Rest Christine. Our journey is not yet complete. Rest here now." She closed her eyes and drifted quickly away. Colette stirred in the corner.

"You stay here. Sit in that chair." She did as he said.

"I have things to do. If either of you leaves this room…" Colette shook her head before he could threaten her again. She would stay here. She would make sure that madwoman staid as well.

Erik met Madame Kable and Luc at the bottom of the stairs.

"Boy. I have made arrangements for a carriage and horse to be brought here. They are to come at three in the morning. My companions and I will have an early start. I have made a list of provisions I shall need." Erik handed Madame Kable the list written in red ink.

"I need all of these things brought here before the carriage arrives. I will pay you well. How you gather these things is of no concern to me. Purchased or stolen matters little. Just that I have them all before I depart. Do you understand?"

Madame Kable and her son nodded in acknowledgement and the boy set out into the night. By three o'clock that morning everything had been gathered and a team of black horses lay in wait outside the front door. An unconscious Christine was carried and placed into the carriage compartment, the trunks bound to the outside. Colette reluctantly entered the carriage, squeezing Luc's hand before she did. They both looked at each other knowingly, as only two children from desperate situations could do. Erik sat in the drivers seat and spurned the horses forward. They quickly disappeared down the street and out of sight.

Madame Kable placed the money from the evening in her secret locked box and entered into her secret journal a description of her latest guests. With it she placed the red inked list of provisions. For a woman who preached to her son to forget, she was one never to forget. Memory and evidence of unscrupulous guest always came in handy sooner or later.


	10. St Valery en Caux

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 10: St. Valery-en-Caux**

* * *

The rest of the journey to St. Valery-en-Caux was one perhaps best left forgotten. Erik drove the women towards the town harder than a conscientious man would have. Collette's discomfort was of no concern. It she died along the way the corpse would easily be tossed into a ditch. Christine's discomfort should have been troubling to Erik, but her weakened state did not fully register with him. For so many years she had been a ghost haunting the edge of his peripheral vision. To see her pale and moaning from fatigue seemed quite normal for a ghost. So the carriage drove on without stopping until reaching the coastal town.

Erik scouted the town for possible lodgings in the fortnight prior to his taking Christine. The Mansion Henry IV appealed to his grander tastes, but its central location did not lean towards anonymity. He looked for a house along the Port de plaisance, but again the foot traffic left much to be desired. His attention settled on the north of town along the sea coast.

A large enough house lay near the sea there tattered and in disrepair. Decades earlier it belonged to a tradesman whose morals were less than pristine. Made rich from his dealings along the Mediterranean, the tradesman shared the home with a Turkish prostitute he had picked up on of his more memorable voyages. The house was said to be tainted with their immorality. The sea air had long since cleared out the scent of the lovers, but their uncharacteristically large bedroom still remained. This room Erik would give to Christine. The rest of the abode was cramped and minimal at best. It would suit Erik just fine.

So it came to pass that a masked man, a mad women and mute girl took up residence in St. Valery-en-Caux. The town learned of a doctor and his patient living in the old abandoned house. The doctor paid businesses well for food and supplies. The town left the house alone. Children of course invented stories about the house to scare each other. The best so far was one about a Phantom and an opera singer, but adults paid them no mind.

Meanwhile the courtship of Beatrice Ives moved forward. Lord Ives investigated the Vicomte's finances, his ancestry and the events surrounding his ill wife. Lady Ives kept her watchful eye on her daughter making sure the flirtation did not step over the line into a full blown affair. The parents soon became more at ease with the prospect of their daughter marrying. They liked the man, they liked the money, and they liked their daughter being more or less happy. They encouraged the match. The only thing standing in the way was divorcing the madwoman. Raoul had not fully settled on that course of action, but each stolen kiss from Beatrice moved him closer and closer to that end.

The two new households began to form. Their fruition lay contingent on everyone remaining steadfast in their current mindset. Lord and Lady Ives needed to ignore the Vicomte's current wife. Beatrice needed to see Raoul as hers and hers alone. Raoul needed to forget Christine. The townsfolk needed to leave Christine alone with Erik. Collette needed to remain selfish, looking to her own escape and ignoring Christine's. Erik needed to forget everything around him and focus solely on Christine. And above all, Christine needed to remain mad. All was settling into place very well. Everyone played their part. It looked as if the end was coming near. Raoul would have a new wife. Erik would have Christine. Everything would be new again. It all was going so well.

Then one morning…

Christine awoke.


	11. Christine Awakens

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 11: Christine Awakens**

* * *

The bed was very large. Red velvet curtains draped the bed posts. There was so much of the sensory fabric that it bordered on of being obscene. Christine lifted her head from the pillow and pulled the covers off, the cool morning air penetrating her thin nightgown. She looked about the room, confused as to where she was.

Rising, she found her clothes in a closet and dressed herself. The bedroom was larger than any bedroom she had ever seen. It looked as if a couple was meant to spend every waking moment in that room basking in each other's pleasure. The scar across her abdomen made a phantom twinge. The room disturbed her and she exited it quickly.

The rest of the house was just as foreign to her. Musty and in disrepair, she wondered how on earth she came to this place. The doors to the outside were locked. Odd but not unmanageable. Raoul had often locked the doors fearing for Christine's safety. He always hid the master key in his desk drawer and so Christine sought out a desk. She found one covered in music and drawings. Strange but Raoul was a patron of the arts. She ignored the papers and searched for a key. Finding one hidden inside a small compartment, she found her way to the back door and let herself out.

The sea air hit her forcefully. It stunned her and thrilled her at the same time. The sound of the waves echoed in her ears. She was at the sea. How wonderful she thought. Raoul had finally brought her back to the sea.

Dawn was just breaking and the dim colors were beautiful to her. She walked a small way towards the ocean, but tripping on a rock she moved back towards the house. It was too dark to explore just yet.

Returning to the house she sought out her husband. Where was he? She opened the door of a small bedroom. They often slept separately. Her dreams and nightmares disturbed him. There was an outline of a man on the bed. Christine crept close and sat down on the edge. She whispered softly into his ear.

"Wake up my darling."

Erik turned to her, his face unmasked. She looked down and recognized the horror below her. She screamed.

Erik grabbed her arms. She struggled.

"No! It cannot be" she screamed at him in disbelief. She tried to break free but he held on to her tightly.

Collette woke with a jolt and the sound of Christine's scream. The girl was fully clothed as she always was, ready at a moment's notice to escape should an opportunity present itself. The seemingly endless weeks spent at the servitude of the masked man and the madwoman, she always looked for an escape. The doors were always locked, so her first instinct upon hearing the scream was not to run towards them. She went towards the madwoman's voice. In the struggle perhaps she would see an opportunity. A master key that had so far eluded her. Collette found Christine struggling in the masked man's bedroom. Collette wondered when it would come to this. When the masked devil would force himself on the madwoman. Erik's head turned towards the sound of Collette at the doorway. For the first time Collette saw what lay beneath the mask. She too screamed.

"Help me!" Christine wailed at her. Collette looked to her and then to Erik.

No.

Collette would not help the woman. The only thing in her little mind now was her own survival. She sprinted out the room and to the back door. She was ready to hurl anything and everything at it to knock it off its hinges and give way to her freedom. Much to her surprise, it was unlocked. Collette sprinted into the dawn and never looked back.

Christine struggled and cried. The servant girl had abandoned her.

"Please..." she implored to Erik.

"Christine be quiet" her barked at her.

She shook with tears and defeat. She dropped her head to the bed. She felt the bones of his legs stab into her cheek.

"What has happened?" she asked sobbing.

"You are mine now" he replied.

"Raoul!? What have you done to Raoul?"

"Nothing. He is as he was. Attending his parties. Spending his money. He is just as you remember. I did not steal you away Christine. I did not. I would not. I left you alone all those years. But he abandoned you. He left you for mad. Locked you away in an asylum to be forgotten. I saved you from that prison. I care for you now."

"How long have I been with you?"

"Does that matter? He will not come for you Christine. Of that you can be sure."

Christine slid off the bed to the floor. She looked blankly ahead. The yellowy light of the new day bleed towards her on the floor. Awake and aware she had the day ahead to contemplate what had happened. More importantly, Christine would decide what would happen next. The balance lay with her.


	12. Collette Survives

**Christine's Madness **

**Chapter 12: Collette Survives**

* * *

Resourceful as Collette was in the city, she found great difficulties roaming the French countryside. The coastal townspeople were smart enough to be wary of a stranger and shunned her when she begged for food and shelter. She might very well have starved to death if she had not stowed herself in a cart headed towards Dieppe.

Once in Dieppe her street smarts saved her. She prided herself on not resorting to too unseemly of practices to get food and shelter. She was still too young and too ratty to entice men to a bed anyway. There were always drunkards to be served, especially in a port town.

Eventually she sought out the company of the inn keeper's son. Luc was more than happy to renew their friendship. He was grateful she had escaped from the masked man and the madwoman. He often pressed her to tell the tale of her escape but would turn red every time he realized she could neither speak nor write. So they left the matter to the past and silently greated each other in the streets whenever their paths crossed.

Collette dreamed of passage on a boat to America, but it was still out of her grasp. She would have to steal far more money from drunks to pay for the trip. Her current situation was a compromise. She was away from her father and away from the masked devil, but she still felt vulnerable.

The masked man she ran from crept to the forefront of her thoughts. She was not sorry for abandoning the madwoman. Remorse was not in the simple girl's lexicon. But the image of the man unmasked would not fade from her memory. She thought of the couple locked together in that house. She thought of the woman's screams. She thought of the horrors that must occur every day and every night.

Collette thought of these things because in her bones she felt she was not done with the masked man. Or was it that he was not done with her? Staying in Dieppe was a mistake, she knew this, but she had not alternatives at the moment. Returning to Paris and her father was out of the question. She did not have enough money for America. Luc was a nice enough lad, but marrying him did not really seem the best option in Collette's eye, despite how much she would love to run his mother's inn herself.

And so Collette worked in the taverns of Dieppe simply waiting. Waiting for whatever life...or death...had in store for her.


End file.
